


That Dance

by Raine_Wynd



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 05:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: Steve and Peggy have their promised dance.





	That Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedchick/gifts).



> For twistedchick - sorry it took me forever to fill this request; I hope you like it!

Steve stared at the dossier he had received, his attention arrested by the status of a woman he had loved. A slow smile crept across his lips as he saw her last occupation had been Director of SHIELD. Somehow, it did not surprise him that she had risen through the ranks to run it all. His heart – already aching from the knowledge he had gleaned from the other sheets in the dossier – froze when he saw the phone number at the bottom of the page.

 _Peggy’s alive_.

For a long, endless moment, he stared at the phone on the table across the room.

 _It’s been seventy years; she’s undoubtedly moved on_ , Steve told himself, and forced himself to finish reading the dossier. He could not shake the sense, though, that if he were to call, anything he would say would get recorded for posterity, given everything he had heard so far about how historical his wartime efforts had become. What he wanted to say to Peggy was private. Then the Chitauri invasion of New York happened, and whatever impulse he had had about calling Peggy was pushed aside in favor of concentrating on the fight and the immediate aftermath.

He should have realized Peggy would not wait for him to make a move. Two days after the Chitauri invasion, he was in his SHIELD-issued apartment, debating Tony’s advice to ‘take a vacation, somewhere not here, the media around; this will be insane for days,’ when the doorbell rang.

Wary, suspecting it might be a visit from Nick Fury, Steve rose. He was not dressed for a mission; he’d chosen a dress shirt and khakis for his walk down to a nearby coffee shop for breakfast. Intending to spend the day catching up on the giant list of things he needed to know to understand this new century he lived in, he had taken off his shoes. Steve did not bother using the peephole drilled into his front door; it was set for someone much shorter than he was. Instead, he opened the door to find the woman he had left behind. Her hair, now white with age, fell in loose waves to her shoulders, and life had etched wrinkles in her face. She wore a dark blue dress, printed in tiny white polka dots, with a sweetheart neckline and a flaring skirt. Pearls adorned her ears and a matching necklace encircled her neck.

“Peggy,” he sighed, or maybe stuttered; he wasn’t sure. All the feelings he thought he had buried in the ice surged to fill him, overwhelming him with love and regret and ohmygod she was still alive and not dead and here now and here in his apartment and here and – Steve forced himself to take a breath. He had faced alien invaders, for crying out loud; surely, he could handle seeing Peggy again.

Looking as though she had read his mind, Peggy smiled, amused. “You promised me a dance, soldier. I’ve come to collect my debt.”

“It’s Sunday,” he argued, confused and startled.

“It’s also 2011,” she said, her smile widening. “I know a place we can go; we aren’t limited to the Officer’s Club. My friend Angie owns a dance studio. Come, I’ll drive.”

“You don’t want me as your dance partner,” Steve stalled, certain in seventy years she had danced with someone more skilled. “I, uh, don’t know how to dance anything recent.”

One eyebrow went up. “Who said we were going to do that modern nonsense? I leave that to my grandchildren. Besides,” and now she looked mischievous, “you’re assuming I’m going to let you lead. Come on, Steve. I’ve waited a long time for this. Surely, you’re not going to disappoint me twice?”

“Of course not,” Steve hastened to assure her.

Out of excuses, Steve put on his shoes and let Peggy take him to a dance studio on the other side of the city. A sign on the door indicated it was “Angie’s School of Broadway Theatre Arts and Dance.” A young man in a t-shirt advertising the dance studio and jeans checked his computer before telling them, “You’re in Studio B, which is down the hall on the left.”

“Thanks,” Peggy said, and led the way. The studio turned out to be a room with a mirrored wall. A pair of yellow plastic chairs sat in one corner; the shape and color reminded Steve of half an egg. A woman who looked to be of Italian heritage stood waiting for them. Though her hair was black, the wrinkles on her face, neck, and hands made Steve think she was likely in the same age group as he and Peggy were. She wore a blue top with the studio’s logo and a plain black skirt over tights and held a remote in one hand. At their entrance, she smiled.

“You always said you’d find him one day, English,” the woman greeted as Peggy and Steve drew close. “Never thought you’d deliver on that promise.”

Peggy chuckled. “Neither did I, after so long. Steve, this is my friend, Angie Martinelli; this is her dance studio. Angie, this is Steve Rogers.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve said, shaking her hand.

“I saw you at a USO show once,” Angie told him. “Took English years to admit to me she knew you. Not that I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Angie,” Peggy said warningly.

Angie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Like that threat has any weight to it after all these years. Steve, when she gets tired, come find me; I’ll be out front if you want me to substitute. All the music you requested is on the iPod, ready to go. Enjoy.” She handed the remote to Peggy and then exited the room.

Peggy started the music, which filled the room at a comfortable volume. It took Steve a moment to realize the music was coming from the tiny device on the shelf on the side of the room; the speakers were in the ceiling. Steve breathed a sigh of relief as he realized the music was familiar; the dance no different than anything he had ever learned. This was the dance he had promised Peggy, so many years ago, and when the song ended, he didn’t want to stop dancing. Three more songs flowed, and still Peggy was in his arms. It took another song before he realized she was not in the same physical condition as she had been.

“Shall we stop?” he asked her.

She nodded and paused the music. Pressing a hand to her chest, she breathed in deliberately, letting her heart rate calm. “Sorry, Steve; I get more easily winded these days.”

Steve led her to one of the chairs. “Then take a rest,” he insisted. “Do you have this room reserved?”

“For another fifteen minutes,” Peggy said, apology in her tone. “Angie has a class scheduled for in here. She was a stage actress for many years; this is her way of making sure the next generation learns from the mistakes she made.”

“If we went to lunch after this, just you and me, would you be offended if I asked Angie to dance?” Steve asked.

Peggy smiled. “She would be thrilled, but before you do –” Peggy leaned over and kissed Steve.

For a long, seemingly endless moment, Steve lost himself in the feel of her mouth pressed against his. Then he remembered to return the kiss, forgetting where they were, forgetting everything but the pleasure to be had in relearning the shape of her mouth, the feel of her pressed against him, the love he felt for her. Reluctantly, Peggy pulled back.

“Later,” she promised huskily. “Go find Angie before I forget how not to be scandalous.”

“You say that like you’re well acquainted with scandal,” Steve teased her, aching for more.

Grinning, Peggy told him, “Well, nobody wanted a girl to oversee SHIELD, especially not someone who wasn’t an American citizen. Howard told them nobody else was good enough, so he put me in charge.”

Steve blinked. “You were the director of SHIELD?”

“Until twenty years ago, yes. I retired when I was seventy; Nick convinced me I’d done enough.” Peggy added gently, “Steve, I’m ninety years old. Most of our contemporaries are dead. I was fortunate to need to stay fit and have good genetics to have stayed alive this long. I’d given up on ever seeing you again. I married, had children, even grandchildren.”

Steve dropped his head, struck again by how much time he had lost. “Then I’m grateful you are here,” he told her firmly. “You’re still my best girl, even if you are sending me out to dance with someone else.”

Peggy chuckled. “I’ll be watching. She can’t steal you if I’m here.” Amusement laced her voice. “Unless you want to be stolen, Steve.”

“Not likely.” Still, he rose to fetch Angie, certain he was filling a long-held request. No matter what happened next, Steve knew he would treasure this moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism, keyboard smashes, "I like this!", and kudos always welcome. :-)


End file.
